


2 Shoes, a Skant, and a Mirror

by Xenobotanist



Series: Garak Bashir Kinktober 2020 [2]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Kinks, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Shoe Kink, Skant Uniform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:48:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27321454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenobotanist/pseuds/Xenobotanist
Summary: Julian and Garak continue to explore the possibilities of Kinktober.Each chapter title will denote the kink.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Series: Garak Bashir Kinktober 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985425
Comments: 15
Kudos: 43





	1. Pump it Up (altocalciphilia/high heels)

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, October’s pretty much over! This is still technically a continuation of my Kinktober collection, but the next 3 chapters can make their own stand-alone story, so here we are. Since I’ve SUPER busy for the end of the month, I’ll just keep going on into No-O November. I’ve never participated in that anyway, and I’m not about to start! :P

“You still haven’t explained what you were doing in my closet in the first place.” Julian crossed his arms. “Or why some of my clothes are missing. Although I have my suspicions.”

Garak’s face was the picture of innocence. “Do you? Perhaps you should report the theft to Constable Odo.”

“Oh, right. ‘Hi, Odo. I think my tailor boyfriend recycled some of my outfits because he doesn’t find them tasteful.’ I’m sure that’ll go over well.” 

“ _Boyfriend_ is such a juvenile term,” Garak complained for the hundredth time. But he looked secretly pleased about it, as usual. And he didn’t deny the accusation, either. 

Julian sat down on the bed, prepared to set aside some time for whatever it was the other man had in mind. “So what is it you wanted to talk about?” _Or do?_ he thought. Maybe Garak was finally going to admit he had a clothing kink. He was a tailor, after all. Although Julian doubted anything he owned could possibly satisfy the man.

Garak held up a pair of high-heeled shoes and arched a brow. “I was wondering when you were planning on sharing _these_ with me _.”_

“Those are mine,” Julian answered quickly. “They don’t belong to anyone else, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m not a thief. Or seeing anyone behind your back.”

The look Garak gave him was actually benevolent. “Of course they are, my dear. I do know your shoe size.” He dangled them in the air. “But why haven’t you been wearing them? I believe they would show off your calves to an advantageous degree.”

Julian leaned back on his hands. “Pumps aren’t actually very compatible with my career or the architecture of Deep Space Nine, Elim.”

Garak set the footwear on the floor to join him on the bed. “Go on.”

“I can’t wear them in the infirmary for obvious reasons. A doctor needs to be able to move around quickly, and maintain a firm balance during surgeries.”

“But what about outside of work hours? You are quite active during the evenings, and I know for a fact that you take pride in your appearance and others noticing it.” The tailor smiled suggestively. “Especially me.”

“Well, to be frank, the floors built for Terok Nor were treacherous. And when the Federation moved in, they did nothing to fix them. Why do you think Melora had to leave?”

“Who? Ah yes, the Elaysian. I always assumed it was because you two had a falling out.”

 _Wishful thinking, Garak?_ That finally answered the question of whether the tailor had known about his tryst with the visiting scientist. “Anyway, there’s grating in several of the corridors and around the holosuites, raised dividers at nearly every entrance and juncture, and the floor of the lift has a terribly raised texture printed into the metal. Even Quark’s bar has steps everywhere. The only places I could really get about with ease would be the habitat ring and short stretches of the promenade.”

“So you haven’t worn these in _years_ , then?” Garak looked practically mournful.

“I wouldn’t say that. I’ve worn them to several of my medical conferences. Hotels have much more amenable floors. Carpets, stone, wood…” He paused as a few memories waltzed their way through. “Dancefloors.” _Talk about being swept off your feet…_

Garak brought him back around. “They look hardly used. Do you have any other pairs?”

Julian shrugged. “I did, but they weren’t getting any use, so they went in the recycler.”

“What a pity.”

“Well, yeah, I guess so. I really do enjoy wearing heels. I just feel so _good_ in them.” He could feel his cheeks grow hot as they probably blushed blatantly.

Garak’s attention was piqued. “So wearing these… _pumps_ is a sexual experience for you?”

“I don’t know if I’d say sexual so much as _sensual._ Although I suppose they do make me feel a bit, well, _sexy.”_ He thought, then elaborated. “They require a fair bit of focus, and it makes me more _aware_ of my body, especially my legs, feet, and arse.” His body twitched as muscle memory kicked in. He could still feel, in a sense, the pressure on his toes, the pull in his thighs, the sway of his hips. 

The tailor sat in contemplation, but only for a few moments. “Would you say the only thing holding you back is the treachery of the floors aboard the station?” he asked curiously. Julian looked to the ceiling in thought, then nodded. “Might I propose a solution then? What if you had someone to escort you about? A hand or arm to hold. I may know someone who is open this evening to fill that position.”

“Oh, really? Well, tell them that I’ll be ready around 1900 hours, then. We’ll give it a try.”

///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\

As expected, Garak arrived at 1900 on the dot, and Julian was ready for him. He’d debated what outfit would best complement his legs while sporting heels, and settled on an informal skant. It was technically still Starfleet, but acceptable for casual outings. He decided to forgo stockings (they rode up rather uncomfortably at times), but zealously shaved his legs and oiled them up. The gleaming stretches of smooth skin set off the outfit wonderfully, and he couldn't help enjoying the brush of air whooshing past his newly-sensitive skin without hair to hamper it.

Upon entry, Garak’s mouth dropped open, eyes agog. “Ab-so-LUTE-ly not!” he exclaimed.

Julian looked down at himself. He thought the short hemline showed off his assets rather well. “Why not?”

“ _Because_ .” The tailor’s eyes traveled down him, then back up. “It’s _scandalous_.”

“Oh, that’s rich, coming from you. Since when are you ever afraid of putting people off?”

“But. My dear.” Garak licked his lips. “However would anyone manage to _control_ themselves around you?” 

Was it Julian’s imagination, or did his voice sound a little strangled? “Anyone? Or just you?” he asked cheekily.

Garak splayed his hands out, palms down, and shook his head. “No. We are _not_ going out in public with you wearing that.”

There were times that Garak would be amenable to persuasion, but Julian could tell that this was not one of them. “Fine. I’ll try something else.” But he was going to save this for another time. It had some very promising possibilities. He wiggled his rear a little as he retreated back into the other room.

He returned shortly with a blue silk shirt and tight black leggings that ended just above his ankles. One of these days, he might even work up the courage to don the pair with laced-up sides. Garak still looked him over with those turbo-lift eyes, all the way down and back up again, but did not complain again. Julian did a quick little pirouette, avoiding the mirror as he did so. It’d only remind him of how skinny he was. But who needed that, when the Cardassian slowly smiled at him, like he was a Delavian chocolate that would melt if he wasn’t consumed soon?

They made their way to Quark’s, with Garak leading only slightly, Julian’s arm in his, and an occasional hand as well as they stepped over rises and navigated uneven surfaces. The human felt a little gangly at first, the shoes unwieldy under him, until he became more comfortable. By the time they reached their destination, he had developed a loping stride that pulled his partner along in eagerness. He worked up enough confidence to even take a few steps on his own, and left Garak at the table to traipse his way to the bar and order their drinks. He could feel the blue eyes follow him as he passed between patrons and chairs. 

He found Jadzia and Worf seated at the counter, the Trill mouthing something into the Klingon’s ear while wickedly running her hand up and down his leg. She paused upon seeing Julian, though. Her eyes lit up and she nodded appreciatively. “Nice!” she yelled over the noise. “But mine are better!” She kicked up a sparkly heel, and Julian had to admit that her pumps were much more vibrant and a good deal more spiky than his. But also probably half as comfortable. 

He waved Garak over, and the 4 of them held a stilted conversation over drinks and the buzz of drunken voices around them. Glad that Major Kira wasn’t around to be offended, Julian tried Quark’s newest drink, the Naughty Vedek. He wasn’t _quite_ brave enough to try the Smutty Kai. Partially because he couldn’t picture either Winn or Opaka in that manner. 

After two refills, he was feeling properly loosened up and lost track of Garak and Jadzia’s discussion about Trill revivalist something-or-other, and tuned in to the music that had started to play some time in the past half hour. When a song came on from his days in the Academy, he found himself singing along.

_I’m not... who you think I am_

_But for you, I’ll be everything I can_

_Who...DO you want? Who...DO you need?_

_Tell me now, before I leave_

His fingers tapped on the counter and feet bopped back and forth under the stool. 

_Open, open your heart to me_

When the next song came on, a sprightly Talaxian tune, he rose from his seat to dance behind his friends. Garak spared him half a glance, and Worf ignored him altogether. He decided not to care, seeing as the rhythm was catchy and the beat made him want to shake his hips.

The following song was accompanied by a drop in the light levels of the bar, signaling a change from the evening crowd to the night scene. It was something Caitian, he could tell that much, by the humming drums and purring lyrics. He tried to tug Garak out onto the dance floor with him, but met stony resistance. Jadzia joined him instead, and performed the dance quite well despite her lack of a tail. 

They remained as the tempo increased to something bouncy and Bolian. Most of the dancers retreated to their seats. Julian tried his best to keep up, hopping from foot to foot and holding his hands in the air, elbows out. Jadzia doubled over in laughter. “You’re horrible!” she yelled. 

But he was having too much fun. He gamboled back to the bar, where both Garak and Worf eyed him patronizingly. He and Jadzia bought each other shots, which they downed in sync and clacked their glasses together. 

Head swimming now, Julian draped himself around Garak. He snuggled his overheated face into a cool shoulder and hummed happily when an arm curled about his waist. But another Terran song came on, and he pulled away excitedly. “I know this one!” he called out to no one in particular. 

He started to gyrate to the slinky tune, letting the music wash over him and take control of his limbs. 

Jadzia’s eyes widened. “Julian, what _are_ you doing?” she asked over the noise. 

“Dancing!” He slid to the left and twerked a hip, then slid to the right. “Don’t you know this one?” She seemed to know every song and dance out there, so he was surprised to see that she wasn’t participating. Instead, she tapped Garak on the shoulder and pointed out his baltering date. 

“My dear,” his voice wasn’t loud, but somehow it carried anyway. “I fear your enthusiasm is more profound than your skill.”

Julian just sniggered. He spun around and shook his rear. 

Jadzia collapsed onto Worf, tears leaking from her eyes as she guffawed. She shouted something into the Klingon’s ear, causing his scowl to deepen. But she repeated it, then shoved him. He stalked over to Julian and, without saying a word, grabbed him about the waist and lifted him up onto the bar.

More than a little inebriated, the human grabbed frantically for purchase on the steady brown hands, then stared dumbly down at everyone from his new vantage point.

Jadzia cupped her hands around her mouth. “Dance!”

So, dance he did. He shook and shimmied. He rocked side to side. And when the sound coalesced into a single tone that dove like a boulder into the floor, he dropped. Thighs spread and balanced perfectly on his heels, he turned his head and thrust his hips before rising. 

Below him, Garak took a sudden keen interest in his performance. Bolstered by the attention, he stepped it up a notch, throwing in a kick here and there before dropping again. A few people around the bar cheered and made catcalls. He turned around to face the wall of bottles and put his hands on his knees, waving his arse back and forth to some whistles and shouts. 

When he spun around, Garak’s eyes had grown darker, his face stormy. Julian slowed his dance and watched as the Cardassian stalked over. Concerned, he lowered down to perch on the counter. A few “awws” sounded from the small crowd around them. To his surprise, Garak leaned over the bar and pulled him forward. He tumbled over the tailor’s shoulder and found himself being carried away, arse in the air and legs dangling. Jadzia hooted and waved as they departed.

“Garak!” Julian cried in indignation. But he hardly struggled, realizing the situation wasn’t nearly as dire as he’d read it. So he hung on and tried not to throw them off balance.

As soon as the pair passed beyond the exit, Garak set him down. His eyes were still intent and dark, but there was a small smile on his lips as well. “That was quite the show you put on,” he commented.

“You too,” Julian retorted before pulling him into a heated kiss. “I think you liked it.”

They traipsed toward the lift, occasionally stopping to make out along the way. As it rose to the habitat ring, Garak spun Julian into the wall and pushed up against him, nibbling along his neck. Julian wrapped one leg around the Cardassian, finding a new appreciation for his heels. With the added elevation, he could now grind into Garak’s hip instead of his thigh. He rubbed shamelessly into the bone, feeling himself grow hard from the friction.

As they exited, Julian began to lean on Garak more and more. His head was spinning less as the alcohol wore off, but that also meant that he was starting to feel other things work their way in. Like the pinching of his toes, the rawness behind his ankles, and the ache in his thighs.

As soon as they crossed the threshold, Julian stumbled into his bedroom and flopped on his bed. He groaned. “I forgot how sore my legs can get after wearing these shoes for so long.” He caught Garak watching him from the doorway. “I know you were looking forward to some energetic shagging, darling, but I don’t think I’ve got the muscles for it right now.” He lifted his head to glare at the limbs hanging limply off the edge of the bed and dropped again. “So unless you feel like doing all the work…” he let the offer dangle, curious as to his partner’s receptivity.

Garak glided over, all solicitous manners. “Why my dear, you have already done all the work so far this evening. I haven’t contributed more than occasional assistance. I’m sure we could work something out that would be agreeable to both of us.” He coolly took stock of the situation, then set to work. “First, let’s get you out of these clothes. I turned up your thermostat, so it’s going to get uncomfortably hot in here, at least for _you_.”

Despite Julian’s exhaustion, something in the tone of Garak’s voice sparked a definite note of interest in his nether regions. He waited patiently as the tailor slipped out of his dress shoes and set them aside primly before perching on the bed. Then his shirt was slowly dragged up over his abdomen and chest, with a few gray fingers ‘accidentally’ flicking over a nipple along the way. His leggings were next, and they were tugged unceremoniously down over his hips. When he felt the cottony texture of the sheets under his skin, he realized his briefs must have come off too. The garments passed over his thighs and knees, and Garak had to get off the bed to continue pulling them over his calves. But then they stopped, just around his ankles. 

There were a few shuffling sounds, but Julian couldn’t see past the end of the bed to know what was causing them. His trapped feet were hoisted up from the floor, and then Garak was rising up between his thighs, bare and smiling rakishly. He was completely encircled by the human’s legs, which were still bound by the fabric of the pants. Julian’s heels met behind Garak’s back, pulling his legs up even higher as the Cardassian moved up to cover him.

“How is this, my dear?” Garak asked, kissing his way up the crease in the center of Julian’s chest. “Adequate?” He brushed over one tight nub and sucked it into his mouth, sending a spike of pleasure straight south. 

“Mmmm, I think I can manage,” Julian replied. He grabbed Garak’s chest and urged him upward and into a heated kiss. Garak settled down over him, cool scales and ridges meeting smooth and fevered skin. “That feels so nice,” he breathed. They rutted against each other while their mouths became reacquainted, tongues tracing lips and teeth nibbling daintily before just opening hungrily together through gasps and moans. 

Julian raked his nails down Garak’s back, just along the spine. The Cardassian hissed and snapped his hips before trailing his mouth downward to bite his human’s neck in approval. The flesh between their bodies grew slick as Julian began to sweat in the heat under his lover’s body and Garak grew aroused, his ajan swelling and releasing a few dewy droplets of lubrication.

Julian frotted upward, running his cock along the scaled crease, sliding it up and down between the folds. Garak nipped at his shoulder and pushed back, everting against the human’s erection. Julian felt it slip out against his base and then tickle up his length, leaving a wet trail as it went. “Oh, _yes.”_ His hand snaked down to take both and rub them together, squeezing and pumping from root to tip.

Garak released a little whine in the back of his throat, and it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. When the gray arms on each side of him began to tremble, he released himself but kept hold of the Cardassian pr’Ut, guiding it down further between his legs. He lifted his hips, and Garak hurriedly stuffed a pillow underneath. He oriented at Julian’s entrance and immediately pressed inward. Julian cried out softly, returning his grip to his own prick and picking up pace.

Garak entered smoothly and easily, then stared down at the panting figure beneath him. “You look so beautiful like this, my Julian. So sweet and soft and _nimble_. I wonder, can you lift any higher?” He shifted forward, forcing Julian’s legs up against his own chest. His feet were now practically over his head, his thighs along Garak’s sides and knees in his armpits. “You’re all wrapped up like a marvelous gift, just for me,” the tailor crooned. “Perhaps I should tie you up with a ribbon.” He hadn’t moved any more yet, and the human whimpered under him.

“You can roll me up in tissue paper and stick a bow on my head as long as you go ahead and properly fuck me,” Julian growled. He pinched a hip ridge. “ _Please.”_

Garak withdrew, then drove firmly back in. “Silk, I think, would be most appropriate for your wrists.” Another thrust. “Velvet around your neck.” Another. “Satin for your ankles. It would pair ever so nicely with those heels that are bouncing against my back.” Julian whined again, bucking his hips up over and over to direct the tip of the cock inside him over the one perfect spot. “Such a handsome and yet _greedy_ little thing, aren’t you?” He pulled out, hovering maddeningly over Julian, eyes stern and wicked.

“You’ve got me bent in half, trussed up, and open for your taking, and you have the nerve to call _me_ greedy?” Julian didn’t give Garak the chance to answer, just grabbed him by the neck ridges and hauled him down into another searing kiss. He kneaded into the thick, darkened scutes like they were putty, and the Cardassian jerked over him, eyes rolling up before being hidden by closed lids. “I’ll show you greedy,” he growled into the mouth gasping against his.

He reached between them to once more guide the pr’Ut back in and slammed his hips upward, while yanking down with the other arm, trapping Garak against him as he speared himself. He clenched mercilessly, feeling every muscle inside his sphincter pulse around the alien organ.

Aroused but far from overcome, Garak slithered his arms under Julian’s shoulders, his hands cradling the head and gripping at his hair. He pressed their cheeks together, huffing in the human’s ear, and then set about grinding into him with a punishing pace. 

Jostled into the pillows with every push, Julian wrapped his arms around the coiled muscles of Garak’s back and hung on for dear life. He took the pounding enthusiastically, dedicated to wringing every last iota of satisfaction out of the both of them. A frantic “unghh” escaped on every breath as the frantic rutting increased, the heat in his groin simmering into a boil that threatened to spill over but held back just at the brim. In frustration, he clamped his teeth down on the nearest shoulder ridge. 

Garak cried out, pumping once, twice, then came inside him, head back and mouth open. Julian seized himself and stroked vigorously. The thick-based pr’Ut lodged in his hole combined with the rough stimulation of his cock finally tipped him over the edge and his whole body curled up and inward as tingles and jolts seared through him. Ears ringing and vision dark, spurt after spurt erupted from him.

He unfurled, hazily aware that his fingernails had dug a handful of deep gouges in Garak’s back. The Cardassian prodded at them gingerly and hissed, but his teeth showed in a fierce grin. “You almost broke the skin that time.” He bent his head down to nuzzle Julian’s neck. “I always knew you just needed the right… provocation.” 

Past a dry throat, the doctor laughed weakly. “Well, just remember that if you tie me up, I won’t be able to do that.”

“Yes, I have considered that. But there may be other compensations.” Garak pulled out, but remained gazing down at him. “We’ll never really know unless we try.”

Julian thought back to scarves and feathers, his limbs akimbo and skin afire. It _had_ been spectacular, if harrowing. “You didn’t learn enough last time?”

“Oh, but that was for _you_ . This would be for _me.”_

Well. He couldn’t really argue with that.


	2. Quickie @ Quark's (skant/semi-public sex)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't as polished as I'd like, but I figured some of us need a little escapism right now...

Julian had to hand it to Quark. His bar’s bathrooms were  _ really  _ nice. 

Well, he wasn’t sure nice was the right word. Plush? Opulent? Decadent? The thick, red, shag carpeting definitely gave the space a certain… ambience. The mirrors, gold plated fixtures, and pay-to-use, “specialized” replicators made it obvious these rooms were meant to serve  _ many _ bodily functions. And serve them in style.

He could imagine Garak calling it gaudy. Maybe lurid or garish. He probably would, too, once he had enough breath.

At the moment, the Cardassian tailor was too busy pounding away into Julian’s pert, bare arse, hands knotted in the raised flap of the skant that had been covering it only 5 minutes before. 

Julian gripped tighter at the conveniently placed gold bar on the wall, no doubt affixed by self-sealing stem bolts. The mirror in front of him made him somewhat self-conscious, so he focused on his lover’s reflection instead of his own. 

Their eyes met, Julian’s hazy olive ones latching onto vivid blue. Garak’s face was wild and intent, framed by hair that had become messily undone as soon as they entered the room.

His mind ran back over the initial encounter. They’d agreed to meet up at the bar again, and he purposely ran late getting ready, just to rile Garak up from the start. He’d donned the Starfleet medical skant once again, along with his newest acquisition, heeled boots. They were much easier to handle on the station, and in his opinion, they looked even better with the outfit than his pumps had. The turned heads and appraising looks on his way down assured him that he’d pulled the ensemble off perfectly.

And then he strutted into the bar, eyes on nobody but Garak. He’d gotten to see the initial glance, the widening of the eyes and smile that was just his, and reveled in the warmth that filled his chest. But then the eyes traveled down and back up again, and Garak’s lips had parted, his face turning hard, almost stormy. Julian still wasn’t sure if it was at his audacity for coming into public with his legs completely on display, for wearing the skant when he’d already been told not to (and if that was the case, Garak didn’t get to dictate what he wore, and they were going to need to have a  _ talk _ ), or simply the man trying and failing to hide the aggressive arousal he felt at Julian’s appearance. He hoped it was the last one.

Julian had walked right by the table and approached the bar first. He leaned over it saucily to order his drink from a Ferengi bartender, aware that the skirt had hitched up even higher, barely covering his unmentionables. Enjoying the little thrill of power he held, he lifted one foot and ran it up and down the other calf while waiting for his order.

He never even made it to the table. There was suddenly a body pressed up against him and a hand on either side of the counter, caging him in. “My dear,” Garak purred into his ear. “May I speak with you for a minute? In  _ private _ ?” And without waiting for an answer, the man dragged him toward the far end of the bar and into the corridor that led to the storage and restrooms. Julian stumbled along next to him, laughing and feigning resistance until they tumbled through an unlocked door.

Once inside, they tackled each other with mutual enthusiasm and spun around a few times in a dance for dominance, but Garak quickly won out by sheer virtue of Julian  _ wanting _ to be pinned. Up against the wall, their mouths met hungrily as hands wandered over necks, shoulders and backs. He wasn’t sure what the Cardassian had been drinking, but it wasn’t kanar. He tasted of cinnamon and clove and ozone, and it was as confounding as it was electrifying. Garak’s hands smoothed down the fabric over his waist and hips, stopping before reaching the bottom of the material.

“You little  _ tart, _ ” he growled. “You’re not wearing any underthings, are you?”

“Why don’t you find out?” It wasn’t the most pithy response, but this wasn’t one of those types of evenings, he was sure of it.

And he was right.

Without further ado, a hand slid up and under the hem and began fondling everything between his legs. He moaned into Garak’s mouth and snapped his hips against the touch. Every nerve ending was brushed and aroused by the smooth, cool, and very nimble fingers. This wasn’t going to take long at all.

The other hand curved over his rear and then down and in, sliding into his crack. He could tell the moment Garak realized what was waiting for him there. The man stopped kissing him and pulled his head back, blinking in satisfied surprise. “ _ Julian _ , did you begin without me?”

The human wiggled against him. “Maybe. If you count lubing up and 2 minutes of stretching.”

Garak’s face turned darker again, and the hand between his legs grabbed tighter. “Such a filthy mouth. And mind. Why do I put up with you?”

Julian shoved his hand down the other man’s pants. “Because you might not want to admit it, but you love it.” Something else almost slipped out as well, but he stopped it just in time.

He found himself spun around and bent over with one of Garak’s hands running over his back while the other hastily undid his trousers. Julian grabbed hold of the bar along the wall that seemed at just the right height for this (what a coincidence) and let shivers run up and down his bare legs and bum in the open air. 

The Cardassian pr’Ut slid effortlessly in, and Garak draped over him, nearly as tight as a second skin. Their arms lined up together, with Julian’s hands covered and fingers interlocking over the cold metal. Teeth sank into his shoulder as the man behind him began to plumb his depths.

A medium pace started them off, but it quickly escalated into grunting and thrusting and the occasional curse.

Which brought them back to this. 

At some point, Garak’s hands had relocated to Julian’s hips, and now they roughly shoved them forward and back as the tailor took his pleasure. Julian released one of his hands from the gold bar to take hold of his cock and start pumping. His eyes squeezed shut as blood pooled into his groin and sharp tingles swirled through his inner tissues where the tailor rammed in and out of him.

“Open your eyes,” Garak directed. Julian did, just barely, to once again stare into his lover’s feral reflection. Garak ran a hand up his bare leg and slammed in one more time, hard and deep, crying out in release and screwing his own eyes shut in bliss.

Julian drove faster up and down his cock, clenching tight around the pr’Ut to feel every centimeter of it inside him. The pressure forced some of Garak’s seed out, and the sensation of it dripping over his sack and down his thighs sent him over the edge. Jolts shot down the nerves of his legs, making his knees weak. He hollered out, just once, then slumped forward.

A slight tickle against his inner walls made him squirm as his lover backed out.

Warm, wet kisses trailed down the bumps of Julian’s spine. He shivered, then jumped as what felt like a microfiber cloth cleanly wiped every curve and crevice between his legs. He hummed in appreciation and wondered where Garak had been hiding the material on his person. A sleeve, a hidden pocket? It made him feel even more saucy, imagining the tailor tucking the square away for the express purpose of… this.

Julian straightened up to turn around. Garak already looked almost completely put back together. How he managed it so quickly was always a mystery. The tailor gave him an appreciative sweeping once-over. “I don’t see how Starfleet could ever have justified such a modified uniform. It’s rather provocative.”

Julian smirked back. “In  _ both _ meanings of the word. Maybe they didn’t have repressed Cardassians in mind when they designed it.”

Garak looked affronted, flashing one of his most practiced and (in Julian’s opinion) adorable facades. “I am  _ hardly _ repressed.”

“Mmm. I suppose I do spoil you.” Julian stepped forward and laid his hands on Garak’s chest. “I meant your race in general. Hiding everyone’s legs, and men’s wrists and sternums.” He poked the Cardassian’s nose. “Look at that. You can’t even hear the word without blushing.” Nuzzling at a ridged ear, he whispered, “Sternum,” then brushed his hand over Garak’s, even though it was thoroughly shielded by no fewer than three layers.

“Really, Doctor. The notions you have can be quite ridiculous. The clothing I wear is simply what would be considered the current fashion, nothing more.” But even as he said so, his voice fluttered slightly and his hands settled on Julian’s tight waist.

The human smiled to himself and placed a few light kisses along one ocular ridge. “Why don’t you ever dress me in those outfits, then? Hmm? This skant must be a terrible affront to Cardassian designers. I suppose I could resign it to the recycler and start wearing longer sleeves and higher necklines.”

The grip on his hips tightened. “Oh, I wouldn’t be too hasty.”

But before Garak could return any oral affections of his own, Julian rolled out of touch and sauntered towards the door. “I’m going back to my quarters to take this off. Maybe you could come along and fit me for a couple new outfits?” He slapped the padd by the door to trigger the auto-clean sequence, then blew a kiss.

There was no way Garak was going to let him get rid of that skant.

**Author's Note:**

> That was a great deal more plot than I’d planned on. Oh well!


End file.
